Number Games
by PlaidButterfly
Summary: A hopefully original, or at least not quite as winceworthy take on a cliche idea. PostDH, potential spoilers AU.


((A relatively cliche idea at least done uniquely. ...better than 'Walls', anyway. Mainly just a little crack-fic.))

---

"It's -stupid-."

"It's your first assignment," the lieutenant deadpanned back, straightening the papers in the folder before turning his flat stare back across the desk to Harry Potter. "And you're an Auror just out of training, so I don't see a problem here, Potter."

"But this is rediculous," Harry insisted, reaching up to run a hand through his hair in aggravation. "It isn't an issue, and if it was, honestly, I would know -"

The lieutenant harrumphed. "We know You-Know-Who -"

"Voldemort!"

A flinch. "Yes. Him. We know he has a son, we're just not sure where he is, or what he's doing. This sounds like a situation to me, Potter."

"If you can't find him, he's probably dead - or in any case, not being trouble to anybody. I don't see why I should waste my time on a useless assignment when I could really be doing good out there -"

The lieutenant smiled widely. "It's not a useless asignment." He paused to shove the folder on the desk over to Harry. "It's an assignment for a rookie. Now get to it, Potter."

It took a few moments of nursing his bruised ego at being called a 'rookie' after all he'd been through for Harry to finally pick up the folder and walk out, straightening his new dress uniform.

---

The surf was pounding the ocean drive by the time he pulled in, sky dark. It was a good job, but a long commute from Providence; he didn't really mind, the car was a good one - an extravagant sign of a pay raise. Driving was still a new enough activity to keep him occupied, even if it had been years since he learned.

Dinner was still warm when he pulled into the gravel driveway and of the cottage, although mostly by intervention of the microwave; he told Anna he didn't mind and meant it as she kissed him in flirtatious apology. As he sat down to eat, she sat down with a glass of wine, and he admired his brown-haired blue-eyed very American wife for a long moment before taking a bite.

"It's good."

"I'm glad you think so," she grinned. "It was better when it was fresh though."

"I'm sorry. You know how the traffic can get -"

"I know, I know." She wasn't upset, rather pleased he was home - he relaxed. Taking a sip of her wine, she leaned back to smile at him.

He gestured to her glass with his fork (and a piece of noodle pierced on the tines). "Shouldn't you perhaps not be having that?" he said, a bit teasingly.

"Oh shush, we'll know in a week. Until then, I still get to have fun, right?" She laughed and swirled the wine about in her glass, and he laughed with her, shaking his head. "Besides, you're the one who doesn't want kids."

"You mean, I'm not picking out names already."

"Patrick was my father's name!" She made a face at him before dissolving into laughter again.

He shook his head again, laughing, pausing to wipe his mouth with his napkin as he leaned back in his chair. "I'm sure I'll enjoy children, Anna, really. I'm just not sure this is the best time."

His tone ventured into seriousness, but she continued giggling. "What's a better time? You've already gotten one promotion, you're about to get another - I have a publisher interested in my cookbook, and - and a great house, out where it's beautiful, and spacious -" she flung her hands out for emphasis - "And a great marriage that's full of love and - see? It's perfect already," she grinned, even as he chuckled a bit more dryly.

"I don't know, Anna. There's just some things -"

"What? I'm sure it'll get better, but I don't see things getting worse," she giggled. "I mean - we -do- love each other, and that's most important, right?" She grinned indulgantly, leaning forward to put her elbows on the table, chin in her hands. "Like how I was talking to Karen today - they have two and another on the way, and she still keeps secrets from him - you know - that's what I like so much about us, we don't keep secrets from each other."

He paused in the middle of spinning another bite of noodles onto his fork, running his tongue along his teeth as if trying to think of how to phrase something. "I don't know. I don't think it's a bad thing to keep secrets, sometime."

She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest before he fumbled to continue. "When it's nothing the other person needs to know, and knowing would only make them worry. That sort of thing."

Her lip trembled. "You haven't - you haven't gone and done anything stupid like - like had an -"

"No! No, I swear. Really, don't worry about it, Anna." He leaned over the small table to try and kiss her; she dodged, having him kiss her on the cheek instead of lips.

"I still want to know."

"You'll only worry, I promise," he said with a nervous little laugh. "Besides, they all have long, boring stories behind them."

"I don't mind. You know I love listening to your British accent." A smile tugged at the edge of her face before it fell back down. "Besides, that's what we promised, right, Thomas? - no secrets."

The room fell into silence for a few very long moments, the only sound that of rain pattering against the roof to drip drowsily down the windowpanes. He pushed his meal around with his fork - it was cold again - before finally coming up with an acceptable solution.

"One secret a day, all right, Anna?"

"Only one! God, you're such an accountant. You always go back to numbers." She made a face.

"It keeps you from getting bored."

"Okay. I guess. Do I get to choose?"

"Well, you don't know what they are," he said softly, a slightly coy smile on his lips. "Besides, it only makes sense when I tell them in order."

Satiated, she returned to her drink. "Only if you still want to know, though," he cautioned. "They'll only make you worry."

She make a "tsscht!" sound, rolling her eyes. "I'm a big girl, I can take it. Anyway, how was your day at -work-?"

And then dinner resumed the way it was meant to be, tenseness washing away with the sound of the rain.

The topic only came back when he was untying his tie, getting ready for bed; she had been waiting for him, flipping through her latest cheap mystery novel. As he was undoing the knot, she spoke, making him look up with a sleepy blink.

"So what's today's?"

"Today's what?" he said drowsily.

"Today's secret. C'mon, don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," she mostly teased, setting her book down open on her stomach to keep her place.

"All right." He bit his lip a few long moments before finally seeming to come up with something. "Here. I guess this will do: I'm not really naturally good at math. It's just much easier to do math problems in your head when you're in a cell in the dark than anything else."

She blinked rapidly, as if not quite sure she had heard what she had, even as he slipped off his collared shirt and slacks and tossed himself into bed, pausing only to lean over and give her a kiss with a "G'night, dearest" before turning off the light.

Anna hated to admit he was right: Thomas slept soundly, while she stared at the wall in the deep blue midnight light until morning. 


End file.
